


Mine, Yours, Ours

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Series: The Wings They Brand You With [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dragons, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Shapeshifting, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things Dragon!Bucky does instead of lapsing into the Winter Soldier (and one thing he always did).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine, Yours, Ours

**1\. Pounce**

The thing is, Steve has this notebook. It's a tiny one, easy enough to sock away so long as he's wearing something with pockets, and he keeps a little stub of a pencil jammed in the spiral binding to take notes with. Tony has conniptions every time Steve pulls it out--"you have a phone; you have a tablet--are you _trying_ to torment me?"--which may be part of the reason Steve is still scrawling his notes down on paper. Only a small part, though. There's something satisfying about scratching an item off the list that pressing delete just can't match.

He's got a few mundane entries in there: addresses, appointment reminders, the rare phone numbers he's asked for rather than had flung at him. Mostly it's lists. Movies, television shows, books, music, famous people and important events. Some of it is actually one hundred percent bullshit; he knows that when Tony tells him he _has_ to look something up, that it's the key to understanding the modern world, and he'll love it, _really,_ he is completely full of crap. He always tracks those things down anyway, not because he's expecting some cultural epiphany, but because he's curious to know what Tony finds funny and why.

Bucky says it's because he's a masochist, but Bucky is sitting right there on the couch beside him watching the Black Knight claim _it's just a flesh wound_ , so he's not sure Bucky has any room to talk. Bucky even laughs.

Steve trades a silent look with Sam, torn between cringing and laughing himself. Sure, Bucky actually has both his arms, but Bucky had spent the brief waking portions of seventy years thinking otherwise. Steve's not sure he's ready to laugh at that yet himself, even if Bucky is.

Sam shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down hard to cage a smile. He's got the adjacent loveseat all to himself and his own bowl of popcorn as well; Bucky's getting better at sharing, but there are limits.

Limits Sam is apparently pushing by trading secret glances with Steve.

Bucky doesn't quite growl, just hums very deep in his throat, his right hand settling over Steve's automatically. He doesn't even try lacing their fingers together or curling his hand around Steve's own; he's staking a claim and making sure that claim is known.

Sam's grin breaks free, but he makes a point of sitting back into the cushions, leaning away from Steve until Bucky relaxes. Steve's still not sure why Tony, who manages to say something suggestive at least once in every conversation, doesn't set Bucky off, while Sam, who's nothing but respectful to everyone, does. Maybe it has something to do with how obviously he and Sam had clicked, right from the beginning. Sam's a hard man _not_ to like, and maybe that's the problem.

It takes a few minutes for the movie to catch Bucky's attention again, but when he turns back to the screen, he looks a little smug, like he's won a skirmish. That's probably what does it. Despite Captain America's wholesome reputation, Steve Rogers has always been a contrary sonofabitch.

So he slides his hand away. Just an inch or two at first, but it's enough to make Bucky start in surprise, turning his head to dart a wide-eyed look between Steve's face and their hands.

Steve keeps his eyes on the movie, pretending not to notice a thing.

Bucky settles again after a few moments, but not before capturing Steve's hand properly again. It takes longer for him to relax this time, and his head remains angled a fraction towards Steve, listening and waiting.

When Steve starts to edge his hand away a second time, Bucky's hand tightens at once.

Steve lets his arm go limp, makes a show of scratching his nose with his other hand as he bides his time. Bucky shifts beside him, uncertain, but eventually he eases up.

Steve whisks his hand away, stuffing it under his thigh before Bucky can pin it down with the hand that smacks onto the leather cushion with a loud thump. Steve's caging a grin until he risks a sidelong glance and finds Bucky staring at his hidden hand with a tragic look, like the bottom has just fallen out of his world.

Biting his lower lip, Steve nearly reaches out to snag his arm and pull him close, but he knows how Bucky's head works, that giving in too quick will seem like a lie. Instead he moves his hand back slowly, creeping closer and closer until he can just stroke the tip of his littlest finger down the back of Bucky's hand.

When Bucky twitches as if to grab for him, Steve scoots his hand two inches away and freezes, waiting.

The devastated look has vanished from Bucky's face, replaced by intense focus. He stares unblinkingly as Steve spider-crawls his hand back, pinky finger slowly angling out and hovering over Bucky's knuckles.

Bucky snatches at him again and almost succeeds in capturing him, but Steve whips his hand away in record time. Sam gives a snort of stifled hilarity on his right, but Bucky doesn't even glance his way. He's watching Steve's hand as it slowly returns to the cushions and--

Bucky lunges at him, grabbing with both hands as Steve bursts out laughing and tries to fling his arms up out of reach. It doesn't help; Bucky simply climbs him, kneeling up on the couch now and stretching after him. Taking the only escape route left, Steve slides down under Bucky, hitting the floor in a deep crouch. He shoots up the instant he's clear, vaulting the coffee table and grabbing hold of the far end of the loveseat to swing himself around, socked feet skidding on the hardwood floors.

Bucky's after him like a shot, barefoot and nimble, his eyes half-lidded in warm indulgence as he chases Steve around the room. Sam pauses the movie just to laugh at them as they go over the couch again, Steve trampling the length of the leather cushions and nearly tripping over the arm as Bucky grabs for him from below. He makes a break for the hall, but it's too late for retreat. The quiet slap of Bucky's footsteps pauses as he leaps onto the couch and over it to crash into Steve, both hands hooking into his shoulders.

There's the faintest prick of claws against his skin as Bucky's nails melt into talons, but Bucky's command of his body is iron-clad in every way. Steve barely has time to be aware of the contortions Bucky goes through at his back, spine bowing as he tucks his legs in so that he lands on feet braced to either side of Steve, bearing him gently to the ground.

"Rrr," Bucky says deliberately in his own, human voice, pausing only long enough to drop a teasing bite on the back of Steve's neck. Bucky leaps up a heartbeat later, sprinting down the hall, and that's when Steve realizes: Bucky isn't the only one with uncontrollable instincts.

When Bucky runs, Steve chases.

**2\. Princess**

"Coffee?" Tony asks plaintively as he comes staggering down the hall, scrubbing a hand through sleep-mussed hair. He's only presentable in the sense that he is, in fact, wearing clothes, although pajama bottoms and a pair of tees nearly half as old as he is stretches even that definition. He should have been showered and dressed an hour ago, and it doesn't take a genius to realize the Sunday brunch reservation for two Pepper arranged a week ago will not be filled by them. She'd invited Maria to go in her place half an hour ago, thinks it's lovely that Maria collared Sam on her way out the door.

"The coffee's where it always is," Pepper replies, rolling her lips in and trying not to laugh at the way Tony blinks at her, one eye wider than the other, helpless as a toddler being tasked to tie his own shoes. She can never tell him this, but he's ridiculously endearing when he first wakes, and if he ever realizes, he will never be on time to another appointment for as long as he lives.

"Hngh," he manages, shuffling away in search of the pot, one arm already lifting to flail clumsily at the air. "JARVIS? Gimme back the specs. Why was I asleep again?"

" _I believe that would have been the combination of thirty-nine hours of wakefulness and a judicious application of bribery and threat from Miss Potts, sir_ ," JARVIS replies as the schematics for Sam's wings materialize around Tony's head and follow him into the kitchen area.

"Sneaky," Tony says admiringly. It's just barely possible he's already forgotten she's there, curled up on the couch and dressed a little too warmly for lounging around at home. She _could_ be furiously angry with him, except that she was the one who told JARVIS not to wake him. They'll have other dates. Sam would only need to be without his best possible wings once for it to be the one time it mattered.

She's thinking of getting a head start on Monday's paperwork, maybe a little wistfully of the missed chance to ask Maria to join her instead for a girls' afternoon out, when she hears the odd thump on the roof. Going still, she waits for an alarm to sound, for JARVIS to issue an alert, but all remains quiet. Either she's hearing things or what she heard wasn't a threat.

The next thump she hears comes with a rush of movement out on the balcony, and she nearly lets out a startled yelp before she realizes who it is.

It's not that she ever forgets James' strength is enhanced; it's just that he rarely does anything to remind her, preferring to hang back in the shadows. Seeing him jump lightly down from the roof with a white-painted cast iron bench slung casually over one shoulder is certainly a reminder. She watches wide-eyed as he shifts the high-backed bench into both hands like it weighs nothing, setting it down not far from the door.

She has no idea what he's doing with a bench in the first place.

Taking two steps back, he makes a running leap for the roof again, landing silently this time. She can't hear him walking, but her eyes follow a straight line across the ceiling in the direction of the elevators. If he's decided to bring them something but hadn't wanted to intrude, then taking the elevator all the way up to the helipad access would make--

He drops down again before she expects him to, only this time he's carrying an enormous cloth bundle and a white paper sack. The sack he sets down under the bench; the cloth bundle turns out to be a quilt. When he unties the ends, what must be half the decorative cushions in the tower spill out at his feet.

"What the--" Tony sputters from a few feet away. "Is that Barnes? What on earth is he doing?"

"I don't know," Pepper admits, watching as James shakes the quilt out over the bench, tucking the corners into fanciful curlicues in the metal to hold it in place. The penthouse's walls block most of the wind from the inset balcony, but James has a soldier's thoroughness in everything he does. When he starts arranging the cushions into a kind of nest, her still-quick pulse begins to slow. The cock of his head as he examines his work reminds her of a bird, though she knows her imagination is failing her by several orders of magnitude with that comparison. She's seen the footage from James' lone transformation. She still can't bring herself to really be afraid.

James doesn't seem surprised when he turns and finds them both watching him. He walks up to the door, raps twice on the glass, and enters without hesitation when she calls, "Come in."

"No, no, no," Tony warns dramatically. "If you invite them in, your protections won't work!"

Pepper rolls her eyes. "That's vampires, Tony," she replies without looking at him. James doesn't look at him either. He marches right up to Pepper, ducks his head down and takes her gently by the arm, hesitating when her brows arch in surprise.

"Wait, what?" Tony yelps. "Pepper?"

James rarely shows his teeth when he smiles, and now is no exception. He just waits, hand warm around her wrist, faint creases left by long-ago laughter deepening around his eyes when she rises to her feet. She can guess he means for her to follow him outside, so she walks with him, matching his pace. It's easily the kindest kidnapping she's ever been a party to.

"Hey! _Thank_ you, Mario, but _your_ princess is in another part of the castle!" Tony blusters as James pushes open the door.

"It's all right, Tony," Pepper calls back, amused. "Go back to working on Sam's wings. James and I will be fine."

"JARVIS!" she hears Tony call as James leads her out. "Get me Rogers!"

" _Go ahead, sir_."

"Rogers! Your dragon just stole my princess! I mean my Pepper! Get your ass up here and--"

Pepper laughs as the door swings shut and cuts off Tony's tirade. When she sneaks a glance back at him, he doesn't look worried; he'd have been yelling for a suit if he'd been afraid for her. He does look near-apoplectic with jealousy. She hates to admit it, but it's cute on him.

She suspects she knows what part she's meant to play here, so she settles demurely amongst the cushions arranged for her comfort. James has even strewn a few underfoot, so she kicks off her heels and curls her bare toes into velvety blue plush. She's no colder without her shoes than with, so she might as well please herself.

The paper sack he hands her is heavier than she expects, and when she peeks inside, she finds a tall paper cup of tea, a croissant wrapped in plastic film, and a paperback book with the faces of an angel and a demon substituting for the O's in the title.

When she looks up again, James has already moved away, leaping up to perch on the corner railing in an easy crouch, staring out across the city. He keeps one hand wrapped around the sturdy steel balcony rail, but his slumped posture is loose and relaxed. He looks like he's standing guard.

"You know, James," she says mildly, pulling the tea from the bag, "I'm a little surprised you didn't pick Steve for this."

James snorts, shaking his head. "Steve makes a lousy princess."

Pepper's lips twitch; she hides her smile behind her tea. Still. "Well...he _is_ pretty enough, but I suppose he'd insist on rescuing himself."

The look James tosses over his shoulder is both wry and respectful. It surprises her as much as the careful upturn of the corners of his mouth. "You and I both know I couldn't have gotten you through that door if you didn't want to come," James says with a shrug. There's nothing the slightest bit flirtatious about it; he says it as a simple statement of fact. "The difference between you and Steve is you know how to _let_ yourself be pampered a bit. Steve still thinks he's got something he needs to pay back."

She tries not to stare, but she's seen _all_ the footage, read everything she can find about this dangerous man who'd had next to nothing, barely even a name, when he first came to live with them. That his first instinct is to give tells her all she needs to know about how much of "Bucky" Barnes is still left in the man, but she suspects Steve isn't the only one who needs lessons in how to accept the good things that come his way.

"James," she says warmly, patting the seat beside her. "Come here, please."

He hesitates a moment before slipping down from the railing, brows tilted in confusion. Instead of joining her on the padded bench, he folds himself down at her feet, sitting on one of the cushions with his back to the bench seat. He's still staring out across the city, looking for danger, but he seems relaxed enough as she sets down her tea, reaching into the bag again and pulling out the book.

He doesn't quite startle when she slides her fingers into his hair, but he holds himself very still at first as she combs through the long strands, glossy now that he's begun taking care of himself again.

"'In the beginning,'" she reads aloud, flipping the page one-handed to the true start of the book. "'It was a nice day.'"

James sighs as she continues to pet his hair as she reads to him, his eyes going half-lidded though he never stops scanning for threats. When Pepper spots movement at the door, she glances over quickly as she turns another page, but it's only Steve. The smile he gives her is exaggeratedly long-suffering, but that may be because Tony has his phone out, snapping picture after picture of Pepper and James together.

The smile Steve gives James makes her glad Tony's distracted, lets her hope Steve will accept a little mutual spoiling next time, now that he's seen how it's done. As princesses go, she's a pretty good role model.

Disney can bite her.

**3\. Hoard**

Steve doesn't think much of it when Bucky snags a gun from a fallen Hydra agent. Even Bucky runs low on ammo eventually, though the sheer amount of firepower he manages to squirrel away on his person on any given day is daunting. The gun gets shoved through a convenient strap on his tactical suit--maybe he wasn't quite out of ammo yet--and is forgotten as another operative breaks cover and opens fire.

By the time they return to the tower, Steve isn't thinking about the gun at all.

Five days later he's looking for his shoes, trying not to crease his suit before they even make it to Tony's gala. Well, technically it's Pepper's gala, but Tony was the one who burst in over breakfast, declaring that if they aren't going, he doesn't have to either, _Pepper said_. Tony might have been banking on Bucky's dislike of crowds to get him out of attending, but if Pepper wants them there badly enough to let Tony think he might be off the hook, they're going.

If Steve can just find his black dress shoes.

"Hey, Buck?" he calls, turning away from the walk-in closet that had honestly seemed like an outrageous luxury once upon a time before other people started filling it up with suits and uniforms and things. "You seen my dress shoes?"

"The brown?" Bucky asks, coming down the hall from his own room. He spends almost no time there these days, but he's got a closet like Steve's.

"The black."

"Have you checked the top shelf?"

"Twice," Steve says, eyeing it again. The shoes up there are all still in their boxes, and while he's almost positive there's at least one more pair of fancy black loafers up there, he wants the comfortable ones that are already broken-in. Call him paranoid, but the idea of fighting in a pair of new dress shoes make his feet hurt preemptively.

The only place he hasn't looked yet is under the bed, because his shoes just don't tend to end up there. Then again, he does have a dim memory of the last time he got dressed up, Bucky purring, " _Well, don't you clean up nice_ ," and then...well, he might have toed his shoes off at some point and kicked them off to one side, so the bed is looking more plausible by the moment.

Kneeling down carefully, he lifts up the edge of the ridiculously long bedspread and peers underneath.

It's possible he forgets how to breathe.

There are guns under the bed. Steve straightens up, sits back on his heels, and decides he's wrong. There are not guns under the bed. There is an _insane stockpile_ under the bed, beginning with handguns and ending with something that looks a bit like a customized rocket launcher, crammed together in a Jenga-like puzzle that takes up nearly all of the available space. He's pretty sure he recognizes a few of them, mostly taken off dead Hydra agents, though one bears the crest of Latveria.

Bucky comes in and stops a few paces from the door. His eyes start to pale out for a second or two, but he blinks them back to normal, cocking his head. "Were they under there?"

"Uh," Steve says. "I...don't actually know. I was a little bit distracted by the--" Oh, Christ. "By the _hoard_."

Bucky stares at him for a moment, clearly trying to work out what has Steve so excited. "They're not loaded?" he offers, hunching a shoulder.

"But why are they under our bed? Why not under your bed?" Steve asks, not wanting to admit that yes, he actually is comforted to know that.

Bucky snorts. "We don't sleep there," he points out, eyeing Steve like _he's_ the crazy one. Dragon. Right. It does sort of make sense. But.

"Guns?"

Bucky shrugs. "I don't make the instincts; I just follow them."

Steve laughs a little, shaking his head. Really, he should have known. "Help me find my shoes?"

He can handle sleeping on top of his dragon's hoard.

At least until he catches Bucky trying to fit a small missile launcher through the door, and then he puts his foot down, hard.

**4\. Flight**

"All right," Tony says, standing on the tower's helipad with the visor of his suit flipped up, ready to fly at a moment's notice. "Take her up slow to start. I pretty much redesigned this one from scratch, so she may not handle quite the way you're used to."

"Got it," Sam says, tossing Steve a grin that threatens to crack his jaw. "Wish me luck," he adds as he pulls his goggles down.

Bucky starts when Sam's jetpack sprouts wings, but he settles with a watchful glare when Steve grabs his arm. Steve would have come up anyway to watch Sam try out his new gear, but Bucky is present more in the name of desensitizing him to the sight than for moral support. Tony's flying doesn't seem to bother him, but for reasons he can't explain or won't talk about, Bucky _really_ hates Sam's wings.

Sam takes off like a bottle rocket, shooting straight up into the air with a fancy little spin at the end. Even without their headsets, they can hear his joyful whoop from where they stand as he dives into a wide loop, still sticking to the air above the roof though Tony's more than capable of catching him if anything goes wrong. Of all of them, Sam's the most responsible; he claims someone has to provide the rest of them with a good example.

Stock-still, Bucky tracks Sam's flight with eyes gone an icy, metallic blue, a growl rumbling without pause in his chest.

"Buck?" Steve asks, reminding Bucky of his presence. "You okay there?" He doesn't get an answer. "It's okay, Buck. We talked about this, remember? It's just Sam. We like Sam. Sam's _one of mine_ ," he stresses ignoring Tony's raised brow.

Even that last ditch tactic doesn't seem to be helping this time.

"Uh, how's it going up there?" Tony asks cautiously, taking a step back from Bucky.

" _Fantastic_!" Sam replies over his headset. "I don't know what you did to increase the responsiveness, but I am _on fire_."

"Yeah, about that," Tony says. "Look, we've got a possible Code Silver--"

" _Shit. Is landing gonna_ \--"

Despite knowing it's a possibility, Steve isn't prepared for Bucky to transform all at once, bowling both Steve and Tony over as his mass expands tenfold. Even as Steve scrambles up, feet tangling in the remnants of Bucky's workout clothes, he can't help staring: as a dragon, Bucky is magnificent.

Shaking out his wings irritably, Bucky bounds to the edge of the roof, long tail lashing behind him. His head's tipped up, turning with Sam's movements as Sam circles warily overhead, his growl rumbling like a diesel engine. Spreading his wings wide, he sucks in a long, deep breath that fills out his broad ribcage like a bellows, then lets go with a roar that must fill all of Midtown Manhattan.

"Shit, shit, shit," Tony chants, staring helplessly as Bucky turns a tight circle, still watching Sam. "We are definitely not hiding this one."

Steve sprints to grab Bucky like he did once before, but this time he's too late. Bucky coils into a crouch and explodes into the air, wings driving him up and up and up. He shoots right past Sam, wings tucking tightly around himself as he spins like a top, until momentum and gravity hang in the balance. Coming out of his stall with a sinuous twist, he snaps open his wings to effortlessly loop the roof, pure arrogance in the slight arch of his neck and his narrowed eyes.

"Sam," Steve says urgently over the headset, "you'd better get down here while he's still--"

"Wait," Tony cuts him off, frowning thoughtfully after Bucky. "Is it me or is he copying Sam's moves?"

" _What_?" Sam asks incredulously, but now that Tony's pointed it out, Steve can see it too. Sam's been circling them, and now Bucky is too, only with rather more flair. The beat of his wings is almost insultingly lazy, and he keeps changing his angle in the air so that the sunlight streams off his scales in rippling waves. The cavernous thrum he rumbles shakes the air as he grows tired of simple circles and sweeps his wings down hard, climbing up through the air at dizzying speeds. Throwing himself over hard to the left, he spirals down on a wingtip, nearly buzzing them as he pulls up again.

The look he throws Sam then is decidedly challenging, as close to a smug smirk as a dragon's long muzzle can get.

" _Oh, you're on_ ," Sam shouts after him, hitting his thrusters into overdrive as he claws for altitude.

"Uh, Sam? I'm not sure this is a good idea," Steve says, watching with his hands fisted anxiously. He swears he can hear the news helicopters coming, though so far the sky is all but empty. He just has a bad feeling about this, though he can't quite put his finger on why.

" _If your boy can't take it, he shouldn't be bringing it_ ," Sam shoots back as he flips over like a diver and plunges into a spiral to match Bucky's. Being smaller, he has more turns to make, and he comes out of it with a slightly drunken trajectory that makes him laugh. " _Whew, headrush_!" That doesn't stop him from cutting an enormous figure eight stood on end over the tower, rising gracefully through the upward arcs and curving his whole body into the downward plummet.

It's beautiful to watch, but hardly the most acrobatic thing Sam's capable of. Despite his nervousness, Steve's chest feels like it's going to crack open wide. Sam is _playing fair_ , sticking to moves a body not tied to a jetpack should still be able to follow.

Bucky accepts the challenge without hesitation, even adding his own embellishments, corkscrewing his way through the pattern. He makes it look effortless, but the strong flex of sinewy muscles tells its own story. Extending the last loop into another arc up into the air, he points his nose up, climbs another few hundred feet, then throws his wings out wide. Hanging in midair on an updraft, he contorts himself on a rib-cracking inhale and tilts his head straight to the sky, spitting out a stream of white-hot flame.

Falling away with a serpentine twist, Bucky lets loose with another smug roar, as deep and unapologetically masculine as the call of a--

"Oh, shit," Tony says in a rush, eyes going huge. "Sam. Sam has wings. Sam is the _competition_."

"The what?" Steve blurts, hearing Sam echo him over the headsets.

"The rival! Sam is the rival and this is a dance-off!" Tony sputters through the hysterical laughter he's trying to keep in check. "Wow, Cap--maybe you should stick with Wilson, seeing as he's willing to battle a dragon for your hand!"

" _Oh my God, Stark,_ shut up _unless you can tell me how to throw this fight_!" Sam yells, choked hilarity warring with panic in his voice.

"Running away seems to work in the nature documentaries," Tony suggests, shaking with silent laughter inside his suit.

" _On it_!"

Bucky follows when Sam bolts for the roof, but he lands without attacking. Instead he puffs his chest out, arching his neck with a complete lack of modesty as he spreads his wings out wide, just in case Steve might possibly have missed what an excellent specimen of dragonhood he's looking at.

Tony loses the battle to contain his laughter at that, bending over with his hands braced on his knees, red-faced and breathless. Sam hides behind him as best he can.

Bucky spares him only one superior glance before sitting back on his haunches, curling his tail neatly around his feet like a cat. His neck's still arched, wings half-extended, and he stares at Steve expectantly.

Steve really just wants to hide his burning face in his hands, but he settles for ducking his head with a mortified whimper. "Oh my _God_ , Buck, you _win_ ," he groans as he goes to pet his big, dumb, ridiculous dragon back to a better humor.

"He chooses you, Pikachu!" Tony shouts helpfully. Sam loses it at that, hunched over with one hand braced on Tony's back, the two of them nearly crying with laughter.

Bucky drops his head to push his face into Steve's chest with a pleased rumble, and Steve finds himself laughing as well.

"Yeah, yeah. Same to you, you jerk. Now can we get inside before the news cameras arrive? I'm not sharing your naked ass with the entire world, and you're too big to fit through the door."

**5\. Claim**

It starts over a movie. They're on Tony's floor because Pepper's out of town and Tony is maybe feeling just the littlest bit lonely tonight, not that Steve expects him to admit it. Bucky's restless too, refusing to settle, so Steve just leaves a spot open on the couch between him and Tony, figuring he'll come and sit down when he's ready. Tony's surprisingly patient with it, shooting Steve a wry smile as Bucky paces the open area between the balcony doors and where they're sitting. "I think this is the first time he's been up here while Pepper's gone," Tony confides in an undertone. "He's like a cat wondering where his person's run off to."

Bucky snorts at him--he's preoccupied, not deaf--but then he heaves a sigh, slinking over with purposeful steps.

Steve's not surprised when Bucky chooses to climb over the back of the hugely-overstuffed couch rather than walk around it, but then Bucky stops halfway and takes a seat on the couch back, feet planted on the cushion. It's not exactly good manners, but Tony doesn't even twitch.

He moves even less when Bucky reaches out and rests his hand on top of Tony's head, possessive and protective. Steve knows the latter from personal experience.

"Uh," Tony says, swallowing hard. His eyes slowly drift up, though he won't be able to see a thing. "Steve?"

Steve's throat closes as memory hits. Bucky's always been tactile, but he'd been different after Steve found him in that base: less likely to touch anyone at first, but more likely to lean into Steve at the slightest provocation. He'd thought that it was just because Bucky wasn't bowling him over all the time anymore, but now he remembers how Bucky had been with the Commandos, unable to talk without settling a loose grip around someone's arm, never passing anyone without leaving a quick press to their friends' shoulders.

"It's okay," Steve says with a wobbly smile. "Just go with it."

Eventually Bucky turns Tony loose, dropping down to curl into Steve's side and wedging a little behind him, chin propped on Steve's shoulder. Tony still doesn't move, staring straight ahead, a little wide-eyed, blinking a little too rapidly.

He's just close enough that Steve can stretch out his arm behind Bucky and close his hand around Tony's shoulder with a quick squeeze. He can feel through his palm how reluctantly Tony relaxes, but also how thoroughly he does so once he gives in.

***

When Bruce wanders in one day with a perplexed look tinged with a hint of guilty panic, Steve just grins. "Some hoarding is also platonic," he explains kindly, laughing at Bruce's sigh of naked relief.

"Sorry," Bruce says quickly, "it's not that--I mean, it's just--look, if this had been going to turn into some sort of fairytale harem scenario, I would've liked a little warning up front, is all."

"Don't worry about it," Steve says with a grin. "The dragon's not the only one who's selective about sharing."

He actually manages to make Bruce blush, and considering that Bruce is best friends with Tony Stark, he's going to count that as a win.

***

In the first two weeks after Natasha returns, she and Bucky circle each other constantly, neither willing to turn their back on the other. With Natasha, that instinct is perfectly professional, but Steve's just glad Natasha can't fly. Bucky has somehow conflated Natasha with Peggy in his head, and he refuses to leave Natasha alone with Steve for even a moment.

When Natasha works this out, she backs off all at once, her narrow-eyed watchfulness traded for amusement.

"You know," Natasha remarks one day, holding Steve's eyes with a feline smile. "It's a good thing most princesses use their powers for good."

Bucky cocks his head, giving her a bewildered look. "What's Pepper got to do with anything?"

(Pepper is claimed even before Tony. She just takes it in stride.)

It's much later, while the three of them are crouched on the edge of a rooftop in Minsk, that Steve sees it happen. Bucky reaches over and gently clasps his hand around the toe of Natasha's boot, and Natasha doesn't pull her foot away. The moment's there and gone in an instant, but it leaves Steve smiling for the rest of the mission.

***

Clint just shows up one day, a little quieter than Steve remembers, maybe a little moodier. He and Bucky hit it off immediately, which probably shouldn't surprise anyone. They're both snipers, and they can be sarcastic little shits, and Steve's mainly just relieved they're not whipping it out to compare barrel lengths. So to speak.

He doesn't even notice that Bucky's arm ends up draped over Clint's shoulders or Clint's around his from the first time they meet until days later.

***

The thing they're up against looks like an unfortunate mating of King Kong and a triceratops, and it hits hard. Thor finds this out in the worst way possible, slammed to the ground by a massive armored fist. When he doesn't immediately roll to his feet, Steve feels a lump of ice settle in his stomach; the thing moves too fast for half of them to keep up, and they're too far away to stop it as it raises its fists again.

Before it can pound Thor flat, Hulk drops into the street from a nearby rooftop, Bucky jumping off his back by springing over his shoulders. Sprinting to Thor's side, he drops into a crouch with one hand planted on Thor's chest, carefully adjusting his grip as he fills out in a rush of bright scales. Snarling at the creature with every tooth bared, Bucky takes advantage of its confusion and spits a fireball that crisps its tough hide to blisters and ash where its armor doesn't stretch. Hulk rushes in before its shriek of pain finishes echoing, leaping up to slam both fists into its blunt muzzle in a mirror of what it had intended for Thor.

Staggering, the creature hunches over, bracing on its callused knuckles as it shakes its head. As Tony and Sam swoop in to intercept, Bucky remains crouched over Thor, not budging until Thor comes to with a groan.

" _Welcome back, big guy_ ," Tony says. As Steve jumps over the furious lash of Bucky's tail, he sees Thor shake himself awake and start to slide out from under Bucky's paw just before it's lifted away entirely. " _When you're feeling up to it, why not give that bug zapper of yours a try? Looks like this thing's weak to fire, so lightning's worth a shot--pun not intended_."

They all hang back as Thor calls down the lightning, though Bucky can't resist sending another fireball after the thing. On Bucky's right, Hulk stares with an expression of childlike curiosity, taken with the novelty or perhaps just impressed with Bucky's size. When Hulk reaches out one huge hand, Steve winces despite himself, thinking of the comparative fragility of Bucky's wings.

Hulk just pats Bucky's neck and smiles when Bucky cocks his head to fix him with one blue eye.

Steve looks away as the street rattles beneath his feet, the oversized monster going down in a twitching heap that seizes as its heart gives out. It looks even more horrific now, its blackened hide cracked and oozing, and he genuinely misses SHIELD just then--or, rather, SHEILD's cleanup crews.

It isn't until he hears a harsh sigh and a familiar shaky laugh over his headset that he thinks to look back at Bucky and finds him human again, peering down at himself with a pleased grin. He's still dressed for once, as if he'd never changed shape.

"Hey, that worked," Bucky says, patting himself down and apparently liking what he finds; all his weapons must still be in place. "Thanks for the tip, Thor. And thanks for the ride," he adds, grinning up at Hulk and patting his arm.

" _Well_ ," Tony says dryly, " _at least one of them's figured out how to keep his clothes on_."

Bucky idly gives Tony the finger. Hulk, seeing this, copies Bucky with a face-splitting grin.

***

Sam's not really the jealous type. He knows life's too short to be hung up on that sort of bullshit, and by that he means life's short for everybody. When someone gets a second chance and decides to grab hold of every bit of happiness they never thought they'd have again with both hands, he is all over supporting that. So watching Bucky tattoo his name on Steve's ass and then go around collecting the rest of the set doesn't actually bother him; if he's being honest, it's funny as hell.

He _will_ admit to feeling a little left out, sure, but he can deal with that. He's a grown man, after all.

The floor's quiet when he gets back in, pleasantly tired from an evening out with Maria, Natasha and Clint. Natasha's a little bit terrifying to drink with, and he's feeling it a little more than he'd like, so he heads straight to the kitchen, intending to slam a few glasses of water and maybe see what's in the fridge.

He doesn't find a hangover cure when he pokes his head inside, but he does find a film-wrapped plate with an enormous slice of tiramisu and his name block-printed on it, and that's good enough for him. He drinks two glasses of water while brewing up a cup of decaf, then sits down at the kitchen table to tuck in.

The first bite is like an orgasm in his mouth, and he resolves right away to find out who he needs to thank and where he needs to go to get more. And this, this right here-- _this_ is why he hasn't been making quite so many noises lately about moving out, finding his own place. He still feels weird about mooching off Tony, no matter how many times the guy points out he's never even going to notice the expense. It's not even particularly a pride thing, though he's always paid his own way, likes having his life under his own control. As much as Tony likes to give, Sam doesn't like to think about how little he gets back, free and clear, with no strings but friendship attached. If he wasn't living under Tony's roof, that line would seem a lot clearer, at least in his own mind.

He gets it, though, he thinks as he pours his coffee and sits back down, playing thoughtfully with his fork. If he's having serious second thoughts about moving out just from coming home to find one of his housemates has saved him a slice of near-literal heaven, he can just imagine how the others feel. He's got a family, after all: parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, grandparents, aunts and uncles. His family reunions are the stuff of legends. Thor was the same until just recently, though the way he hears it, the big guy's family has gotten a lot smaller all of a sudden.

The others? Steve's got Bucky, and Bucky's turning loose of Steve when you pry his cold, dead fingers off him, and even then, there's probably going to be a fight. Clint and Natasha are thick as thieves, and Tony's got Pepper, and Bruce. And they've all got each other, of course, but that's it: nearly everyone most of them care about already lives here, so why would anyone want to go?

He's sitting there trying to think of a way to suggest the equivalent of shooting some hoops to a billionaire genius when someone walks past behind him, casually clapping his shoulder to let him know they're there. "On my left?" he jokes, tipping his head around and back with a smile.

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh as he investigates the coffee filter, making a face before dumping it out.

Sam frowns. He looks around, expecting to see Steve hiding behind him, but the kitchen's empty except for the two of them. But that doesn't make sense, because Bucky doesn't touch _anyone_ casually but Steve. Well. Steve and the people he's decided are his, or maybe theirs.

_Oh_.

Ducking his head, Sam spears another forkful of tiramisu, suddenly feeling better about his decision to stay.

**+1. Tether**

"Oh my God," Steve breathes, eyes wide behind a spare pair of Sam's goggles as he holds on tight. "Oh my God, Bucky, you--wait-- _Bucky_!"

Rumbling the draconian equivalent of a laugh, Bucky curls himself over, his spine transcribing a perfect arc as he points his head down, tucks his wings close to his sides, and plummets like a stone. Fisting his hands in the straps Tony had helped rig for them--a Kevlar blend, because sometimes Doombots happen--Steve hangs on for dear life, reminded suddenly of riding the Cyclone at Coney Island. Not because he's in any danger of losing his lunch, but because there's something about speed and vertigo and the wind in his hair that makes him want to scream for the sheer joy of making a whole lot of noise.

Manhattan has gotten used to seeing an actual dragon in the skies, and though Bucky still won't pose for pictures, he's gone to visit the local children's hospital a time or two. The news helicopters know to steer clear of him by now, and more to the point, the Air Force does as well. If Bucky decides he wants to take his boyfriend joyriding over New York, no one's going to tell him not to.

That doesn't mean Tony isn't standing by or that Sam isn't following them much more sedately somewhere below. Steve knows Bucky wouldn't ever let him fall, but Doombots happen, and invasions happen, and _life_ happens, and it's good to know they've always got backup. It's even better to know that Bucky falling is never going to happen again. Not unless Bucky means it to.

Pulling out of their steep dive as they break through the cloud line, Bucky evens out with an effortless shrug of his wings. It's the middle of the afternoon, and though New York is beautiful from the air by night, Steve can't help a surge of fondness at seeing her laid out beneath him under the clear light of day, a boiling hive of activity that never stills. There's something comforting in the chaos below, packed streets a sign that all is well, everything in its place.

Steve's getting pretty good at learning to move with Bucky, even in the air, and they stay up for a while longer, lazily patrolling the skies. It's always a bit sad when they have to come in for a landing, because Bucky flies like he's meant to be nowhere else, all his doubts and guilt and nightmares stripped away the moment he leaves the ground. Steve hopes he'll have that someday whatever his shape, but for now it's something to work for. For both of them, really.

Sam drops to the roof as Bucky wriggles free of his harness to change, the two of them easy with each other now that it's been established that Steve prefers manly and virile dragons to--yes, fine-- _equally manly and virile_ falcons. The whole tower is full of stupidly ridiculous people, but Steve knew that going in.

"Nice flying, there," Sam says as Bucky shrinks and straightens, trading scales for faded Levis and a green Henley. Steve and Sam pull their goggles up at the same time, trading grins. "Thought you were going to have a rollercoaster moment there, Cap."

"I nearly did," Steve admits with a laugh.

Bucky shakes his head, smiling with his eyes. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Shouldn't people be sacrificing livestock to me? The future sucks."

"Tony ordered barbecue from that place with the mud pies," Sam says, which is news to Steve. It's news to Bucky too.

"The future is _awesome_ ," Bucky corrects himself, making a beeline for the door.

Sam nudges Steve with an elbow as they follow a little more decorously, and Steve looks over with a smile. "Bet you never figured this was gonna be your life," Sam says. "Seriously, flying on a dragon? How does that even happen?"

Steve huffs a laugh, but he ducks his head, still smiling as he catches his lip between his teeth. "Okay, the dragon thing's a surprise," he admits after a moment, "but the flying?" He shrugs. "I didn't even think about it. Once he started going up, I knew he'd be taking me too. The only place he never dragged me was to the war, and even then, I caught up. That's how it's always been."

"You're giving me cavities," Sam accuses, elbowing Steve again.

They're still scuffling like kids when they reach the elevator Bucky's holding for them, watching them with a warmth Steve's lived for since the day they met.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the book Pepper reads to Bucky is _Good Omens_. I figure if anyone can appreciate the triumph of free will over every side but its own side, it's Bucky.


End file.
